


I'd Rather Be In Love

by kindahoping4forever



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Boyfriend!Ash, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindahoping4forever/pseuds/kindahoping4forever
Summary: 5 First Times and 1 Last Time with Ashton
Relationships: Ashton Irwin/Reader, Ashton Irwin/You
Kudos: 2





	I'd Rather Be In Love

##  **The First Meet**

“I’d get comfortable if I were you, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes and haven’t seen a bartender yet.”

You’re not usually the type to talk to strangers in bars and you’re _especially_ not the one to break the ice but there was something about this man that had you feeling bold. You’d been sitting at the back bar, people watching, waiting for your friends to arrive and he caught your attention as soon as he walked in. Hair slicked, perfectly styled save for one stray curl dangling in front of his eyes, crisp leather jacket and black jeans matched with a pressed button down shirt, impractically left unbuttoned enough to reveal a variety of necklaces and an alluring amount of chest hair. You never realized you found chest hair attractive until now. Huh.

He fixes his eyes on you and any nerves you were feeling are immediately drowned in a sparkling sea of hazel coloring and amused curiosity. “Is that so?” He replies in a voice tinged with an accent you can’t quite place. “This kind of thing happen here a lot?”

You grin, impressed by his smooth way of asking “do you come here often?” without actually saying the unoriginal phrase. “I’m a regular, can’t say that I’ve seen it before,” you eagerly take the bait. “The guy served me and a few others, dipped and hasn’t been back. The big crowd is always at the main bar at the front of the house, which is why I like to sit back here at this one.”

“I came back here for the same reason,” he smiles, sitting on the stool next to you, listening intently to your story.

“Smart man,” you flirt, trying not to think about how he’s now close enough you can smell his cologne.

You’re not sure how long you sit and talk with him - it feels like both a fleeting moment and a lengthy dream. You learn his name is Ashton, he’s a musician and like you, he was here to meet friends who ended up cancelling at the last minute. He asks you about your evening, your job, your life; you’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him and how actually interested he seems in your answers.

After a while, Ashton looks around the bar and with still no barkeep in sight, he turns to you with a mischievous gleam in his eye and advises, “Keep a lookout?”

You watch enchanted as he confidently strides behind the bar and makes himself a drink. You raise an eyebrow at him and he holds a finger up, telling you to hold on; he reaches into his jacket and pulls out some cash that he leaves under a glass next to the cash register. “I’m thirsty, not a thief,” he explains as if this sequence of events were a totally normal thing to watch happen.

He sits his glass on the bar in front of where he was sitting and then stops to evaluate you for a moment; you feel yourself blush under his gaze. “Whiskey girl,” he declares, letting out a surprisingly adorable giggle when your shocked expression tells him he’s guessed correctly.

He serves your drink and casually comes around back to his seat, no one any the wiser. “Impressive,” you compliment, raising your glass to his. “Bartending skills aren’t too bad either.”

Ashton chuckles and you think to yourself you can’t imagine ever tiring of the sound. “To our friends and their flaky ways,“ he toasts. You clink glasses and his eyes never leave yours as you take your sips. He leans in and his hand grazes your arm; the feeling is so electric you nearly jump. "Glad they didn’t show up, I think I’d rather spend my time with you.”

_**————-** _

##  **The First Time**

“Should we take this to the bedroom?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You snort at his cliched response and then gasp as he stands up from the couch, lifting you off his lap and locking your legs around his waist in one swift motion.

You were quite proud of yourself for not going home with Ashton that first night, even after talking at the bar until closing. You’d met him for drinks a couple more times that week and tonight when he asked you if you wanted to split some food at the bar, you figured that was dinner _adjacent_ enough that this was essentially a date and you could reasonably justify inviting him back to yours.

You resume kissing as he starts down the hallway, accidentally bumping your back into the wall more than once. He briefly pulls away from your lips, muttering against them, “I have no fucking clue where your bedroom is located.”

You affectionately snicker into his neck while pointing him in the right direction; your laughter sets him off and by the time he reaches your room, you’re both giggling wildly. He drops you down onto the bed and you start wrestling with each other’s clothes. You immediately reach for his belt buckle but he grabs your hand and sternly warns, “The giggle train stops here, sweetheart, once the clothes come off, it’s serious business.”

This, of course, only makes you laugh more until you feel his lips on your neck and suddenly things feel a lot less hilarious.

Your hands and mouths eagerly get well acquainted with each other; you feel like you might burst into flames if things don’t progress sometime soon but you also feel like you could live off his exploratory kisses and surprised gasps if you had to.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling as he raises himself up from between your legs, hair goofily out of place thanks to the way you were tugging at it. Despite your best efforts to hide your amusement, he notices and playfully bites at your neck in protest.

“What did I say about your attitude, missy?” Ash taunts, smiling against your skin. “I’m putting in some of my best work here, you’re gonna give me a complex.”

You pull his face towards yours, kissing him deeply and hungrily. “Guess maybe you should try harder,” you tease, putting the emphasis on the word _harder_ , reaching down to palm him.

He groans into your mouth and ruts into your hand. After a few more minutes of teasing, you pull away and direct him to the condoms you keep in your bedside table. You both get yourselves situated and when he finally enters you, you say a silent prayer of thanks to your friends for ditching you that first night.

He’s as attentive and communicative in bed as he is in conversation and your chemistry easily translates into one of the best first encounters you’ve had with someone. In the afterglow, you and Ashton lay there, catching your breath, joking and talking as if you’ve been lovers for years. You’re taken aback by the familiarity and fondness you feel but it doesn’t make you as nervous as you thought it might.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you return, Ash is looking around the room, collecting his clothes that were strewn about.

Without thinking, you blurt out, “You’re welcome to stay the night.” Not wanting to be That Girl, you quickly try to save it. “It’s pretty late, I’m sure you’re tired, probably just want to crash… so… it’s cool if you’d like to do that here. Or, you know. You can go home. That’s cool too.”

He smirks at your obvious panic, walks over and kisses you. “I’d rather stay.”

_**————-** _

##  **The First Doubt**

“Is it weird I haven’t met your friends yet?”

Ashton’s quiet and it takes you a few seconds to scrounge up the courage to turn and face him; the question had been on your mind but you didn’t mean to let it out on a post-dinner car ride like this. It just _happened_.

“I don’t know… is it?” He glances over at you before turning back to the road. “I’m not being an ass, that’s a serious question. Is it? I just hadn’t thought about it.”

“You’ve met my friends?” You weakly offer, losing your nerve to have the conversation.

He makes a face. “I mean, just a couple of them,” he counters. “And that wasn’t even on purpose, that was just me not leaving your place in time before the brunch brigade showed up.”

You chew your lip, trying to think of how to word your concerns. “It’s just… we’ve been seeing each other for a minute and I think it’s going well -”

“It is,” he interjects, reaching over to grasp your knee reassuringly.

You lace your fingers in his, holding them in your lap. “I guess I was just thinking about it because of the other night when you made plans with _me_ but forgot you had plans with _them_ and I know they didn’t mind postponing but _I_ wouldn’t have minded if they had just hung out with us,” you shrug.

“That option didn’t even cross my mind,” he admits quietly, eyes focused ahead.

“That’s kind of what bothers me,” you say, forcing a laugh so you don’t sound quite as pathetic as you feel. “Do you not think we’ll get along? Are you afraid they’ll embarrass you in front of me? I can’t think of anything _I’d_ do that might embarrass you, but…”

“Baby, no,” he insists, giving your hand a strong squeeze. You smile to yourself - it happened so naturally, he might not realize it, but it’s the first time he’s called you “baby” outside of bed. The car pulls up to a stoplight and he turns to look at you. “You’re not even a little bit embarrassing, they’re _definitely_ going to embarrass me but there’s nothing I can do about that and I do actually think you’d all get along.”

The light turns green and satisfied with his comfort, you’re prepared to drop the topic; it’s quiet for a couple minutes and then Ash is talking again. “If you want me to set something up, I can do that,” he thinks out loud. “I honestly just haven’t thought about it because when I think about wanting to spend time with you, I want to spend time with _you_ … don’t tell anyone, but I like you a lot better than them.”

You grin and lean across the car to kiss his cheek, giving his hair a good tousle. “This is actually probably something that would qualify as embarrassing, huh?” You giggle, trying to finger brush his hair back into place. “Probably shouldn’t do that around _the boys_.”

He flashes you a beaming smile and a light-hearted shrug. “I mean… I’d rather you didn’t.”

_**————-** _

##  **The First I Love You**

“Oh good, you’re here! Can you reach that container on the top shelf with the blue lid? I don’t know where the step stool went.“

"Happy to see you too,” he jokes. “I knew you were only dating me for my height.”

“Please, you’re not even that tall,” you jab, pecking his lips lightly as he hands you the item you requested.

Ash looks around your kitchen, overwhelmed at the mess; he’s glad he arrived early so he can help you get things in order. It was his turn this week to host game night for his (and now your) friend group and you offered to hold it at your place; when you insisted on also providing the food, he never imagined you’d go all out like this.

He lightly smacks your ass before peeling off his jacket and walking over to the sink, to turn on the tap and start washing your collection of dirty dishes.

“You should really let me buy you that dishwasher like we talked about,” he declares. “Save you so much time and energy, babe.”

You press a kiss to his neck tattoo and then hoist yourself to sit on the counter to continue your conversation. “And like I told you, I wouldn’t use it enough to justify it,” you insist. “My lease will be up next year and I really only need it when I have people over, which is never.”

“Well with the way everyone’s feasting tonight, I’d say that’s definitely going to change,” he chuckles, handing you a bowl to dry. “What’s on the menu tonight?”

You happily rattle off the list of food you’d spent the day preparing: homemade pizzas for dinner, dips and salsas for snacks, various cookies and mini cakes for dessert. For most dishes, you’d provided both vegan and non-vegan options and had placed them in specifically colored containers to keep track.

Ashton stops the sink and comes to stand between your legs; you look at him curiously as he takes the plate you’re drying out of your hands and sits it aside.

“It’s really sweet that you went to so much trouble,” he says thoughtfully, playing with the hem of your lounge shorts. “You know you didn’t have to.”

“I know… But I wanted to,” you pause a second, evaluating the large stack of containers on the counter opposite you. Your eyes widen and you start rambling, “Oh _god_ , I’m trying way too hard, aren’t I? I didn’t even _think_ about it, I just _went_ for it, how _embarrassing_ , they already like me, why did I do this? We can stash this stuff and just order something, like normal people would, Jesus _Christ_ , who makes pizza from scratch for _game night_ , I cannot _believe_ —”

Your rant is cut off by your boyfriend’s lips quieting yours. It’s a sweet kiss; passion-filled but soft and ultimately reassuring. He laughs softly against your lips, “I love you.”

You pull away to study his face, you’re not sure why your first instinct is to ask if he’s joking but judging from the fondness in his eyes, you know he’s not.

He senses your uncertainty and doubles down on his statement. “I love you and I love that you care enough about something as stupid as game night to do all this.” He kisses your forehead. “And everyone else is gonna love it too.”

You pull his chin towards you and kiss him slowly, deliberately, joyfully. When you’re done, you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his broad build, burying your face in his neck. “I love you too, by the way,” you share.

“Glad to hear it,” he responds. You can hear the smile in his voice. Suddenly, he’s hooking your legs around his waist and lifting you off the counter, carrying you out of the kitchen towards your bedroom.

You giggle, “Ash, what are you doing? Everyone’s gonna be here in less than an hour, we’ve got to set up!”

He shakes his head. “They can wait, I’d rather show you how _much_ I love you.”

_**————-** _

##  **The First Fight**

“I honestly didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“It’s just _wild_ that you thought this would be uninteresting to me.“

You take a deep breath. “I never _said_ I didn’t think you’d be interested, I _said_ I didn’t see why you were so upset, seeing as it wasn’t going to affect you at all,” you state as calmly as you can.

“My girlfriend moving across the country sure as fuck sounds like something that would affect me,” Ashton snipes.

“For _a few months_ , during most of which _you’ll be on tour_ ,” you emphasize, patience beginning to wear. “Also love how you only ever call me your girlfriend when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”

“There’s no way you actually just used that phrase right now, you’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

He huffs and begins pacing around the room while you sit on the couch, shaking your head. He borrowed your computer while you got ready for your date - which would have been fine except you’d left your email logged in, making him the inadvertent audience to new messages in a thread titled “NYC housing options.”

“You don’t even like your job,” he says incredulously.

“No, _you_ don’t like my job,” you clarify.

“I don’t like how stressed and upset it makes you and I don’t understand why you’d want to devote _months_ of extra hard work and more training for something that doesn’t even fulfill you,” he says matter of factly.

“The doors this could open for me have the potential to make my job more fulfilling - ” you start to explain.

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you just do something fulfilling in the first place?”

You purse your lips, getting angry. “Well, we can’t all be pure intentioned virtuoso artists like you, Ash.”

“Don’t be mean, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening,” he says, exasperated and scowling.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch, running a hand through his hair. You can tell he’s not just mad, he’s hurt. You’ve had fights before but they were trivial and easily resolved; this was something else entirely.

You inch closer to him. “I promise I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you,” you say carefully. “I legitimately thought since it wasn’t a done deal that it didn’t matter. I’m just being considered for the program.”

Ashton toys with the rings on his fingers, avoiding your eyes. “But why wouldn’t you have told me it was even a possibility, why wouldn’t you have wanted to celebrate that your boss thought of you for this? If it’s something that exciting and important enough to you that you’re considering upending your life for it, why wouldn’t you want to share that with me?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “…I guess I just didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious enough that you’re already looking at apartments,” he notes, jaw clenching.

You’re silent; he has a point.

You exhale slowly. “I think part of me was maybe afraid that something like this might happen,” you share quietly.

“So then you _did_ keep it from me,” he accuses.

“No, I think I was just… procrastinating?” You lamely defend.

Ash is cool and eerily reserved as he responds, “Just to be clear: I’m not upset about your offer, I’m upset that you clearly don’t care enough to include me in the important parts of your life. I share everything with you.”

You blink in disbelief. “That’s not fair, you’re not listening to me at _all_.”

He shrugs, disinterested. “Tell me where I’m wrong.”

“Tell me you’re not just mad that I’ll be too busy to follow you around on tour like some starry-eyed groupie,” you toss out, irritated.

He scoffs, “At least the groupies are honest about what they want from me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your hot, angry tears from falling; you refuse to let him see you cry. “You should leave,” you announce flatly.

“Gladly,” he agrees darkly, standing up. “I’d rather be anywhere else.”

_**————-** _

##  **The Last Night**

“Thank you for being here for this… you didn’t have to be.”

“Of course I did, don’t be ridiculous,” Ashton says. “I _want_ to help plus it’d be kind of shitty for me to let you do all this on your own.”

You shake your head appreciatively. “Yeah but going from literally stepping off of a tour bus to loading all my stuff into a moving van is a lot.”

“Well I didn’t _literally_ do that, I drove my own car here,” he jokes.

“You’re the absolute worst,” you deadpan.

“I’ve heard that before,” he grins.

You stick your tongue out at him and then yelp as he grabs you by the waist, wrapping you in his arms, pressing an absurd amount of kisses to your face.

Giggling, you escape from his embrace and go back to stacking the boxes left in the room, making sure everything is correctly labeled and sealed with tape.

“What room do you want this sorted into?” Ash asks, holding up a bag filled with various tubes of lotion.

You squint, trying to see which products are inside. “Uh… that can be bathroom,” you direct, pointing to a box to his left.

He holds up a stack of plastic novelty cups. “Kitchen?”

You shake your head. “I actually use those on my desk - that box is over here.” He passes them to you and you blow a kiss in response.

You both quietly continue organizing but you keep feeling Ash’s eyes on you, studying your demeanor. Finally, he asks, “So… last night in your very own LA apartment… how are you feeling?”

You honestly hadn’t stopped to ask yourself that question yet so you use this moment to take a break and ponder your feelings. You flop yourself onto the bare mattress that’s been left in the middle of the room for you to sleep on and stare at the ceiling.

“…Fine? I mean, it’s weird,” you share, sorting through your thoughts. “Obviously I’ve lived other places but this… y'know… this move feels different.”

He smiles softly at you and sits on the edge of the mattress. “That’s because it _is_ ,” he states. “Bigger milestone, bigger plans…” He mindlessly digs through a box by the bed, you reach out and lightly rub his back.

“Definitely bigger as far as how much I’m moving - _how_ do I have so much stuff?” You joke, gesturing around the room.

He snorts. “I was thinking the same thing,” he teases. “See, I should’ve asked you to move in with me as soon as you got back from New York last year. You could’ve made do with just what you had in that small ass apartment, problem solved.”

You laugh heartily, your exhaustion and excitement making his joke a lot funnier than it actually is. You check your phone for the time and sigh. “Think we should call it, babe. We can finish up in the morning.”

He sets aside the box he was looking through. “Well we already packed up your TV and stereo, what do you want to do for the rest of the night? It’s still kind of early,” he shrugs.

“What’s the _opposite_ of christening a place?” You coyly ask, striking a pose. “Because I vote we do that.”

Ashton smirks, moving to lay beside you on the bed. “Nothing I’d rather do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song of the same name by Michelle Branch
> 
> This was originally posted on [my Tumblr](https://kindahoping4forever.tumblr.com/post/629008981347663872/id-rather-be-in-love-an-ashton-irwin-5-1-fic) in September 2020 - come hang out with me there!


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